The third month brought misty rain to Quecheng.

Clouds heavy with moisture drifted in from the southern border, pressing out scattered rain all along Chizhou.

The waterways carried their full, living current deep into the plains, and the earth began a new cycle of breathing. Bare branches pushed out fresh shoots, growing between rooftiles and workshop eaves, blooming into clusters of pale yellow-green. Quecheng changed color along with it.

Dujuan moved the preserved vegetables and fermented rice wine that had sat through the winter into the rear courtyard, and then busied herself sealing the fabric chests with oiled cloth to keep out the moisture.

Jixiang had lost a patch of fur on her rump. Xiao Nanhui assumed it was mange from the change of season. Bolao, passing by, incriminated himself by claiming it was seasonal shedding.

Xiao Nanhui suspected something was off, and staked out the stables for several nights. Sure enough, she found him sneaking off to ride Jixiang out at night.

Jixiang’s rump fur had been yanked out. She had a bad temper, and only behaved when someone grabbed hold of her rump fur.

Xiao Nanhui was incensed. She could not understand why Bolao would rather torment Jixiang than ride Huaqiu.

Bolao naturally refused to say a word and deflected with some flimsy excuses.

But this sort of thing had not been without precedent. The last time, when Xie Li had come to the capital representing the Andao Institute for an audience, Bolao had been just as restless. Jixiang’s pace was far faster than Huaqiu’s, and even when reluctant, she could survey all the possible escape routes within a few days.

From this, Xiao Nanhui surmised that Xie Li might be coming again. Yet if the Andao Institute were to make such a significant move, it seemed like Ding Weixiang should not have had no reaction at all.

The question lingered in Xiao Nanhui’s mind, but in the end she felt that matters of the Andao Institute probably had little to do with her, and let it go.

She had more pressing concerns to deal with.

That day, after helping Dujuan clear away the leaves that had accumulated in the courtyard all winter, she went alone to Wangchen Tower.

The small side courtyard that belonged to Yaoyi had once again begun to fill up with flower arrangements. The seasonal fresh flowers were fresh peach blossoms, narcissus, and edgeworthia. Their fragrance was thick and overwhelming, making her sneeze repeatedly.

Wangchen Tower’s foremost shopkeeper was, as he had been for ten years without fail, hunched over the counter working an abacus, as though there were no second person in the room.

A jar standing directly in front of him was nearly half the height of a person. The mouth was sealed with fresh clay and tied with a strip of rouge-pink decorative paper.

Xiao Nanhui gave a light cough and poked half her face around the jar.

“Dujuan made this tangerine honey last autumn. I brought it for you to try.”

Dujuan had never had the slightest regard for Yaoyi the profiteer, and the honey was naturally not sent by Dujuan herself.

Xiao Nanhui rubbed her nose and quietly prayed Dujuan would not notice that one of her dozen or more jars of honey had mysteriously disappeared.

Yaoyi still said nothing, head bent over the account book, writing away busily.

When he was occupied, his expression was as cold as this — a complete reversal from the beaming face he showed his wealthy clients. Quite the opposite.

Today, however, he looked even more severe and cheerless than usual.

Creak.

The door opened, and Wu Xiaoliu came in carrying a small copper kettle.

Nearly a month since last they’d met, he had grown considerably rounder. Those sly little eyes of his now looked increasingly like Yaoyi’s, only lacking that particular incisive disdain around the brows.

He seemed a little awkward upon seeing Xiao Nanhui, and stood pinching the copper kettle, his plump hands dimpling from the nervous grip.

“Wu Xiaoliu.” Xiao Nanhui called the chubby one by name. “Why do you not dare look at me?”

Wu Xiaoliu drooped his round face, his eyes rolling around.

“No such thing. You are mistaken.”

Xiao Nanhui looked down at the cup in front of her and frowned.

“Why is this plain water?”

Wu Xiaoliu abruptly grabbed the kettle and fled out the door. The long-silent Yaoyi finally lifted his head from behind the counter, a sharp glint in his small eyes.

“The person you sent here has eaten fifty taels of silver in half a month. And the former master has the nerve to ask why there is no tea — count yourself lucky there is warm water to drink. What more do you want?”

Wu Xiaoliu had something of a tendency to bring misfortune to his employers — Xiao Nanhui had known this since back in the western ridge.

She had just not expected that he might also prove to be a money pit.

She gave a sheepish laugh, and now it was Xiao Nanhui’s turn to look a little shamefaced. She picked up the cup with two fingers, sipping in small sips, muttering between sips.

“I need to make a trip to Yu’an next month. They say it produces a special paired mushroom there, and they will be at their best around then. I’ll bring back plenty—”

Yaoyi suddenly broke in: “What are you going to Yu’an for?”

Xiao Nanhui was startled, then remembered he still did not know about the spring hunt. She immediately regretted the slip and instinctively tried to smooth things over.

“Just the spring hunt. Nothing major.”

But Yaoyi was not so easily misled.

“There has been no spring hunt for more than ten years — why would one suddenly be called now? And you hold no official position, so why would you be going along?”

“I am not the Emperor. How would I know?”

Xiao Nanhui sounded somewhat irritable. Yaoyi, unusually, did not press the point, only offering a muted conclusion.

“He stripped you of your office — that was a good thing. Stop attaching yourself to this.”

Impossible now.

Because she had taken the Black Feather Camp waist tablet and was now entangled in the investigation into Pu Huna. She had never spoken of these things to those around her, and Yaoyi naturally knew nothing of them.

Xiao Nanhui felt guilty and hedged awkwardly.

“Their people have been stretched thin lately. When the time actually comes, it probably will not be my turn.” She paused, then abruptly changed the subject. “Also, you know I came here today about the letter. Do not keep me waiting.”

Yes — she had come today to collect the reply from the Zou Family.

When she sent that letter from Jiaosong County before, she had kept her wits about her and noted Wangchen Tower as the return address.

First, because letters came and went through Wangchen Tower in great numbers each day, and the crowds and bustle would actually make it less conspicuous. Second, if her private inquiries ever brought trouble down upon her, it would be easier to keep the Xiao household out of it.

Yaoyi had spent years cultivating himself among people, and would naturally see through this small calculation of hers. He had already made her sit for half an incense stick’s time before speaking, simply smiling coldly without a word.

Now he glanced at Xiao Nanhui with tepid indifference, his tone taking on the familiar tinge of pointed sarcasm.

“You trust me greatly, I see. The Zou Family is now under intensive investigation by the palace, and you are not afraid I might take that letter straight to Xu Zhi and report you for collaborating with the enemy and leaking intelligence?”

“Yaoyi jests.” Xiao Nanhui’s expression was guileless, her tone carrying a sincere gravity. “I figure your reputation as a miser is already common knowledge. Never mind going to the Commandant’s Court — the moment you step anywhere near the court district, they would have you seized for questioning at the gates of the street.”

These past months apart, and Xiao Nanhui’s ability to cut people down with words had clearly improved considerably.

A vein throbbed at Yaoyi’s temple. He expended great effort suppressing it.

He rummaged through the cluttered account books at his side and produced a thin letter, which he flung directly into Xiao Nanhui’s face.

“See for yourself.”

“What?” Xiao Nanhui peeled the letter from her face and scanned it, and her expression gradually shifted. “How did this letter come to—”

“The letter did not reach its destination. It was sent back from Huozhou.”

Xiao Nanhui was taken aback, then flipped the letter over and examined it carefully.

It was indeed the letter she had sent to the Zou Family several months ago. The seal on the envelope was untouched and had not been opened.

“What happened? Was it sent to the wrong place, or—”

“I had someone ask at the courier station. The family you were sending the letter to had moved away.”

Xiao Nanhui’s shock was undisguised.

“Moved away? When?”

“Shortly after the new year, I believe. A few months ago now.”

What a coincidence — she had barely set her sights on the Zou Family, and the entire Zou household had vanished.

The Zou Family was a fairly prominent wealthy clan in their region — no small, obscure household. The winding and extensive compound of that estate must have held at least a hundred or so people at minimum. How could they simply disappear without a trace?

She suddenly thought of what Wu Xing had once mentioned about an old Zou residence — where the former Hu-surnamed occupants had also vanished overnight, leaving nothing but an empty house.

Who had done this? The Emperor?

Had the Emperor been tracking down Zou Sifang while at the same time quietly moving the man’s family elsewhere? Was this some kind of misdirection, or was it simply a redundant precaution?

But if not the Emperor, who else could have such capability?

Xiao Nanhui knitted her brows, the easy mood she had arrived with entirely gone.

“Has there been any progress on that matter you were asked to look into?”

Yaoyi’s expression also turned grim. He fixed his gaze on the abacus on the desk, fingers idly resetting the beads to zero.

“Do you think I have some kind of heavenly power? Before it was merely gathering sideways information about fringe matters — now you are probing into secret and forbidden affairs. I think you have grown tired of living.”

“A widely-known cold case — how is that any kind of secret forbidden matter?!” Xiao Nanhui also grew agitated, her tone growing urgent. “That letter sent from Heimu Commandery was clearly recorded in the Censorate’s documents, yet it cannot be found now. Someone has tampered with it — possibly someone from within the palace—”

“Xiao Nanhui!” Yaoyi’s voice was almost shrill as he cut off her words. “Do you know what you are saying? What spell did Xiao Zhun cast on you, that you would lose your head so completely and risk your life doing all of this for him?!”

Yaoyi’s words reverberated off the walls of the courtyard, shaking loose a few flower branches.

Xiao Nanhui felt as though her heart had trembled along with the air around her.

Yaoyi’s accusation was not wrong — but he had only gotten half of it right.

Now, when she investigated the Xiao Family’s case, it was no longer for Xiao Zhun.

The person she was worried about was the very one Bai Yun had named as the instigator. She had once been relentlessly pursuing that answer, and now that she knew it, she was throwing herself desperately into proving it was not true.

Such an absurd thing — how could she ever say it aloud?

But if the truth of the matter was as Bai Yun had said, she refused to be the last one to know.

After a long silence, Xiao Nanhui finally regained some semblance of calm and smiled, covering her feelings.

“If you are unwilling to help me, I will not press you. In the end, this is the Xiao Family’s matter — I should not have dragged you into it. Consider it as though I never brought it up.”

The thick fragrance of flowers drifted past her nose. She sneezed several more times, then made as if to get up and leave.

Thud.

Xiao Nanhui turned her head — and saw Yaoyi had flung a cloth bag onto the counter, right beside the jar of tangerine honey.